"I haven't the money," Angus replied regretfully, for in his heart he had coveted Chief from the time he had first mounted him.

Later, when he had handed over his winnings to Paul Sam, Angus drove homeward with Jean. The day had been fine, but in the west a blue-black sky, tinged with copper, bore promise of storm. He sent the team along at a lively clip to reach home before it should break.

He reflected that it had been a most expensive race for him. He did not know when he would be able to repay the money he had borrowed. But his crops were looking well, and his grain was almost ready to cut. His hay was already in. This year he could pay interest on Braden's mortgage.

Jean would require more money. She was going to take a special, qualifying course, after which she would be able to teach. But he rather hoped she would not. Undoubtedly, she livened up the ranch.

Recently Jean had developed. She had grown not only physically but mentally. She was, Angus realized, a young woman. He had heard Chetwood ask permission to call at the ranch.

"How do you like this Chetwood?" he asked.

"Where did you meet him?" Miss Jean countered.

"With a couple of the French boys."

"Oh," said Miss Jean, who was under no delusions as to the boys aforesaid, "then he's apt to need his remittances."

"He seems a decent chap," her brother observed.

"He may be," Miss Jean returned nonchalantly, "but I'm not strong for these remittance men."

But the black cloud was mounting higher and higher. A gust of cold wind struck their faces. The dust of the trail rose in clouds, and behind it they heard the roar of the wind. Beyond that again, as they topped a rise and obtained a view, a gray veil, dense, opaque, seemed to have been let down.

"I'm afraid we can't make the ranch without a wetting," Angus said.

"And my best duds, too!" Jean groaned.

A quarter of a mile ahead there was the wreck of an abandoned shack which might suffice to keep Jean dry, and Angus sent his team into their collars; but they had not covered half the distance when with a hissing rush the gray barrier was upon them. And it was not rain, but hail!

The stones varied in size from that of buckshot to robin's eggs. Under the bombardment the dust puffed from the trail. The horses leaped and swerved at the pelting punishment, refusing to face it.

"Throw the lap-robe over your head," Angus told Jean, and thereafter was occupied exclusively with his team.

The colts swung around, cramping the wheel, almost upsetting the rig.

Angus avoided a capsize by a liberal use of the whip, but with the punishment and the sting and batter of the icy pellets the animals were frantic. They began to run.

Not being able to help it, Angus let them go, having confidence in his harness and rig. Just there the road was good, without steep grades or sharp turns. He let them run for half a mile under a steady pull, and then after reminding them of their duty by the whip, he began to saw them down. Inside a few hundred yards he had them under control, and pulled them, quivering and all a-jump, under the shelter of two giant, bushy firs.

There Jean, peeping from beneath the robe, saw her brother by the colts'

heads.

"Thanks for the ride!" she observed with mild sarcasm. Angus stiffened arm and body against a sudden lunge.

"Stand still, you!" he commanded, "or I'll club you till you'll be glad to!" And to Jean: "They wouldn't face it, and I don't blame them. I thought we were over once."

"Some hail!" Jean commented. "I never saw anything like it."

But already the storm was pa.s.sing. Came a tail-end spatter of rain, and the sky began to clear. But as he wheeled his team out from shelter Angus' face was very grave, and a sudden thought struck his sister.

"Why," she exclaimed, her brown eyes opening wide, "do you suppose that hail struck the ranch?"

"I don't know," he replied, "but if it did, there won't be any threshing this year. It was bad."

As they drove on there was evidence of that. The gra.s.s was beaten flat, bushes were stripped of leaves. They pa.s.sed the body of a young grouse which, caught in the open and confused, had been pelted to death. It was without doubt very bad hail.

When they came in sight of the ranch, Jean, unable to restrain her impatience, rose to her feet and, holding her brother's shoulder, took a long look. He felt her hand tighten, gripping him hard. Then she dropped back into the seat beside him.

"It--it hit us!" she said.

In a few moments Angus could see for himself. The fields of grain which, as they had driven away that morning, had rippled in the fresh wind, nodding full, heavy heads to the blue sky, were beaten flat. The heads themselves were threshed by the icy flail of the storm. He knew as he looked at the flattened ruin that there would be no threshing. He was "hailed out"!

Though the event a.s.sumed the proportions of a disaster, Angus said not a word. His black brows drew down and his mouth set hard. That was all. He felt Jean's arm go beneath his and press it.

"I'm sorry, old boy!" she said. "We needed the money, didn't we!"

"Yes," he replied.

"Oh, well, it can't be helped," she said. "I'll stay home this winter, of course. I can do that much to help, anyway."

"You will do nothing of the sort," her brother declared.

"But----"

"I will find the money. You will finish what you have begun, and that is all there is to it."

"I won't----"

"You _will_!" Angus said in a voice his sister had never heard before.

"I say you will. You have a right to your education, and you shall have it. If I cannot give it to you, I am no man at all!"

CHAPTER XIII

MAINLY ABOUT CHETWOOD

When Angus came to investigate the damage wrought by the hail, he found it very complete. There would be no grain to thresh. It turned out that his had been the only ranch to suffer, the swath of the storm having missed his neighbors. It seemed the climax of the bad luck which had attended that twenty-four hours.

Jean, when she saw that her brother was absolutely determined that she should have another year of study, gave in, knowing nothing of the money he had borrowed. In the fortnight that elapsed before her departure, she was very busy, not only with her own preparations, but with preserving, pickling and mending for the ranch.

During this time Chetwood was an intermittent visitor. On these visits most of his time was spent in Jean's vicinity. Thus, on the eve of her departure, when she was very busy with a final batch of preserves, he appeared in the door. In his eyes, Jean, uniformed in a voluminous blue ap.r.o.n, her face flushed and her strong young arms bare, made a very charming picture. But Jean did not know that. She was extremely hot and somewhat sticky, and believed herself to be untidy. She felt all the discomfort and none of the dignity of labor. Hence her greeting was not cordial.

"I haven't time to stop," she said, indicating preserving kettle and jars with a wave of a dripping ladle. "You had better go and find the boys."

"Please let me stay. I like to watch you."

"I don't like being watched. You can't find much amus.e.m.e.nt in watching me work."